


Libertas (The Paterfamilias Remix)

by widgenstain



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Canonical Character Death, Difficult Decisions, Grief/Mourning, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Not Beta Read, Poor Charles, Poor Hank, Slavery, X-Men: Dark Phoenix (Movie) Spoilers, author doesn't agree with the opinions of the characters but sees their points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/pseuds/widgenstain
Summary: Hank loyally has served in Charles' household for decades and he has never doubted his love for his master. Until the day Raven is taken away from him.





	Libertas (The Paterfamilias Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citrinesunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Paterfamilias](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17983127) by [citrinesunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset). 



> LOVE the original fic, this isn't really supposed to be a continuation of it, it's more like I've borrowed the awesome verse and imagined how the confrontation between Hank and Charles from Dark Phoenix would have gone over in it.

Hank swirled the sweet mead in his cup and watched the amber liquid splash round and round, as he sat at the sturdy kitchen table.

He didn't come to this part of the house often, neither did Charles, which was rather the point. The other slaves and the freed kitchen staff had retired to their quarters already and provided Hank with the needed solitude amongst his eerily flickering shadows. The small oil lamps would soon be empty but this darkness didn't scare him, not like the one that had spread in his heart.

At first, he’d thought it was grief. Raven was dead. Gone. Who wouldn't feel emptiness at the death of someone so important? She’d been the mistress of this house after all, an absolute in Hank’s life, only second after her unmarried brother.

Mistress and friend. She’d always been, from the day he’d joined the household as an awkward boy who she had teased in ways that didn't hurt, to now, 20 years later when he’d known her for the powerful and strong-minded women she’d been. Independent and free, so much freer than Hank ever would be of course, but so much freer than any other person Hank knew too.

She’d come to him one day, right after her engagement had been announced, straight through the courtyard to where Hank was sitting in the shade of the arcades and had asked him what he was working on. It was a special section from Petronius’ Satyricon: Cena Trimalchonis, he was supposed to copy it for Charles’ study. She’d only scoffed at it and Hank had looked at her with surprise.

“Doesn't it offend you that you copy this for my brother? It’s a mockery. A mockery of slaves who became free men. Why would you do this for him?”

“It’s just a story…”

“Well yes, it is to him! But is it to you? You want to be free one day don’t you? You would want to make your own decisions one day, choose your own books to copy, right?”

“Charles lets me decide…”

“And you chose this?!” Her incredulous yellow eyes shot down to the text and back up to him.

“… sometimes.”

“Ah…”, Raven reached for Hank before he could move his arm and he felt her fingers on his skin. She was a high-born lady and not supposed to touch a male slave who didn't belong to her closest entourage, but it wasn't as if people didn't know who he served in the household (and in which manners) and as if she ever was to solicit his services.

“We’re both in the same position then. Free to choose, if it pleases Charles.”

“You agreed to marry Trask…”

She had, Hank had been right there, it was Charles who hadn't been too enthusiastic about the man, but Raven had still agreed.

“Yes, I did, but not because I want to, but because if I don’t accept him now, there will be others, over and over again. I don’t wish to marry at all, I want my own household without a master. I want to live my life as I live it here, with all the decisions I get to make. But without Charles’ interference. I don’t want to give this up to be the wife of someone, a glorified birthing machine. I want to be like Charles, not a mistress but the master of my own house. But that cannot be. So I chose this man, whoever cares who he is, as long as it all stops.”

“But… talk to Charles, tell him! He’d understand.”

“He needs this. He needs his sister to be married to someone of influence, he doesn't need to be the talk of the town, when there’s so much at stake for everyone living here. I shall marry and become bound!”, she looked at him quickly, as if she was embarrassed by her choice of words but then continued: “Almost as bound as you are. Yes, I shall marry and you shall continue to copy whatever he tells you to, even though you and that brain of yours could do so much more.”

This was after her engagement and a week before Erik had shown up. Hank had protested the arrival and wasn't sure what good harbouring a wanted, hurt Galilean mercenary would bring, but Charles had insisted. So, he’d suffered in silence as he had watched Charles fall for another free man and how this man got through to Raven. How he’d incited her and promised her things he could never keep. Three months, one hazy summer, that’s all it had taken to break the bond between the siblings and for Erik to take Raven with him.

Hank had been there for Charles through everything that followed. Had tended to the physical wounds of the violent fall-out as well as the wounds in Charles’ mind. He’d comforted him, maybe too much since his drinking had reached previously unknown extremes, but he couldn't deny Charles his grief back then. He’d felt it too, the futility and the pain of it all. He’d stood by Charles when confrontation followed confrontation, when Erik went mad and came to his senses again, and celebrated with Charles when Raven came back too.

Different, changed, not a bit less fiery but also more matured. And yet Raven still. Still filled with all those subversive ideas that she proposed to Hank, who only knew that his mistress was back where she belonged: Close to him, close to Charles, and who was blinded by his happiness when he saw how Charles’ cracked heart slowly healed.

But now Raven was dead. Killed by a fire, caused by an unstable girl. Not on purpose, an accident really, but one that took this person who was so essential to Hank’s life from him, long before her time. And the girl who Charles had invited to his house as well? She was free. Running free, uncharged and Charles’ education had helped her to do so.

Down the hallway Hank heard a familiar uneven gait. This couldn't be true, not at this hour, not in this part of the building! But here he was, Charles came in, inebriated like he’d been the last few nights, ever since Raven’s remains had been found. They’d barely talked, touched even less, nothing more than the absolute minimum that Hank’s duties required.

Parts of Hank yearned to touch him, to grab him, throw him against the wall, scream at him and hurt him, but also to kiss and hold him and just to be reassured again… Everything inside him tore and broke, while he kept his outside as cool as her could. Charles dared to crook a weak smile at him and an acidic flame burned through Hank.

“Have they found her?”, he asked, mouth tight as if drawn with strings.

“Not yet. It’s only a matter of time though, Hank.”

“And what will happen when they do?”

Charles looked at him with unclear eyes, but he hadn't missed the tone of his voice.

“Hank, you know what danger she is in, this is Jean we’re talking about, you cannot condone what will happen to her if she’s found…”

“Can’t I?!”

Charles swallowed and reached for the jar of mead.

“Hank, I have loved Raven, she was my sister and I wish I could change what has happened…”

Hank ripped the jar from Charles’ hands and threw it off the table, the earth ware splintering in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

“YOU COULD HAVE CHANGED IT BEFORE IT HAPPENED!! You were the one who brought Jean here, you were the one who interfered. You’re the one who always has to interfere, you want to help people, but you only make them miserable! You didn't need to bring Jean, you didn't need to bring Erik, you needed to give Raven what she wanted but _that_ you didn't. And now all of them are broken and Raven is dead!”

Hank slammed his massive hand on the table but neither the resounding bang nor the flaring pain deterred him in his rage.

“You are the one who holds all power here, in this house, in this city in this godforsaken empire, you are the only one of us who has any say and you use it without even considering what we want, the ones who are affected by it! And yet you claim to love us!!”

Charles stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth moving long before the words came out so silently:

“I… I do love you, Hank.”

Tears rose to Hank’s face as did bitter bile in his mouth.

“You do not Charles. If you did, you’d find Jean, and you’d see to it that justice is done. If you loved me, you’d let me go; you’d let _me_ go find her and let _me_ see that justice is done. But you don’t. Because no matter what you say, no matter what you claim, you own me. You owned us all. And therefore, you get to decide what we’re to do and to say and to think. You claim to “protect” us but all you do is rob us of our decisions, because in the end you’re always right and always know best! WELL HERE WE SEE WHAT YOU TRULY KNOW!!”

Hank shoved the table away from himself as he stood up. The idea brewing inside of him the past week, took concrete shape as the words left his mouth:

“I’m done. I’m going, I’m leaving. I don’t care who or what you send after me, I will find Jean and you will not interfere.”

“Hank, please, this is madness, don’t let grief cloud your…”

“STOP IT! Just stop.it.”

Without looking at Charles again, Hank stormed out of the kitchen. Charles screamed something after him, his voice begging, but Hank didn't hear him, refused to hear. For all the anger coursing through his veins and fuelling his final decision, his heart still bled. 

He could have never foreseen that it would come to this, never thought he would be capable of taking this step. Never thought he’d ever have to take it. And Charles was right, of course he was, it was impossible for Hank to do anything about Jean, not in his position, not as the slave that he was. But there was someone who could. Someone who didn't care for his or any social status and who would act, ruthlessly and immediately. All he had to do was reach the provinces undetected. Then Erik would help.


End file.
